


your catra

by bogfenwetland



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24205105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bogfenwetland/pseuds/bogfenwetland
Summary: "you will never stop loving this girl. you will never stop loving how she makes you feel, how she gives you purpose, how she impresses you. you tell her you’re going to take her home."or adora's fight with prime hive mind catra
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 170





	your catra

**Author's Note:**

> forgot that i am obsessed with writing in second person. anyway save the cat was far and away my favorite episode of the season i cannot stop thinking about it. literally it is like... the power of love. holy shit.
> 
> (im on tumblr @jennifersbody2)

You aren’t surprised when they bring her out. You gasp, sure, but, deep down, you aren’t surprised at all. After what she pulled? Why wouldn’t they find some drastic punishment for her? Actually, scratch everything. You are suddenly very surprised to see that she is alive at all. How did you not think about that possibility? Throwing Glimmer, Bow, Entrapta into wild danger on Prime’s ship on some daring rescue mission for a girl who directly challenged Horde Prime himself? Pretty high likelihood that it would have all been for nothing when you made your way to the boss man and he just showed you a clip of her body being thrown into an incinerator. So, yes, you are surprised to see her standing in front of you, regardless of how different she looks. 

And different she does look. You feel a pang of something seeing her in white again, after all this time in red. It reminds you of the white uniform undershirts, just red on the sleeves. It makes her look innocent. (It also reminds you of the stupid scenarios you would play out in your head after somebody in the Horde first told you about the idea of a wedding). Her hair is… interesting. Slicked back like that, it gives her an almost mechanical polish. You can easily picture it all mussed, how she usually wears it. You wonder how long it will take her to get used to stopping short when she runs her hands through it. Maybe don’t wonder about the future until you can figure out the present. Her eyes are the only part that scares you. Of course, it all hurts to see her so different, but the eyes are the real change. Solid, blank. You miss the dichotomy of her yellow and blue, constantly reminding you of how layered she is. You have to see those eyes again, crinkling at the corners in her shit-eating grin. 

She speaks and your heart drops. You had apparently been naive and had held out hope that these changes were surface level, aesthetic stuff. It feels stupid to fall into a cold sweat over a greeting, but you can’t help it. This is not your Catra.

“Hello, Adora.” 

You try to reach out to her, but of course you are stopped by guards. She walks right past you. And sinks to the ground in a deep bow. This is not your Catra. Hordak gives a villain speech about the whole ordeal and, honestly, why would you listen? You call out, urging her to fight whatever is controlling her. And she refuses. At least the stubborness is familiar.

She turns to you, singing the praise of Prime. The light, they all keep talking about this light. You fight the urge to tune her out, too, but you almost wish you hadn’t. Behind the cool, robotic mask, you swear you can hear your Catra’s voice, rough, raw, powerful. The words are different, coming from yours.

“YOU BROKE MY HEART!” 

She touches your face, your neck, your shoulder, and it isn’t real. Cold, calculating. You wonder where in the evildoer handbook it teaches people how to use physical affection as a weapon. And then she tells you that you could be happy here, with her. With Prime. And the words mean something else to you.

“Because, it doesn’t matter what they do. The two of us look out for each other. And soon, we’ll be the ones calling the shots.” 

The memory is so vivid you can see the red Horde flags waving in the wind, the tanks littering a battlefield. Her mismatched eyes looking hopefully into yours, trying to usher you home to the Fright Zone with her. Telling you that you could be happy there, with her. With Hordak. You can’t hold back the tear that escapes. 

You want so badly to reach out to her, to pull her into your arms and beg for her to hear you when you say you wish it could’ve been different. You wish she could’ve been with you the whole way. And Prime, to his credit, offers her. He can see your pain, he can see that she is your weakness. So, he demands the one thing he knows you can’t give. She-Ra. And you spit out a defiant “never!” like any good hero, but to be quite frank you don’t know how you would hand She-Ra over to him when you don’t understand that bitch yourself. Without a sword, what is there to deliver to him? But it feels better to act like you defied him because your morals would never allow you to abandon She-Ra, or the people of the universe.

You don’t really care that Prime disrupts your communication line. It’s not like Bow and Glimmer could do much for you here. Besides, this fight is between you and Catra. He talks about the First Ones, he talks about how you’ve led your friends to destruction, but you aren’t paying him any mind. You are looking at Catra. For any sign of life in there. Any sign of her real, wild self. Your Catra. And there it is, the flash of blue and yellow eyes, the furrowed brow, the single bead of sweat running down her face, what more could you need? Catra is here, with you. There is no reason not to fight for her. He leaves the two of you alone and the claws come out.

And by god does she fucking deck you in the face. Again, your little naive princess brain maybe hoped somewhere that the power of love or friendship or something would make her recognize you immediately, but of course not. You recognize the slam of your chest into the cold floor, at least. You kick her off you and she pulls your hair (like little kids running around the bunks, fighting over some pointless thing or another), you promise her you aren’t leaving without her and she just about dislocates her shoulder to scramble away from you. Fitting. Her claws in your thigh and her teeth in your hip, and then her arm pressed into the column of your throat and her head resting tiredly on your shoulder. 

Prime, light, suffering, Adora, she talks and talks and even though you know it's not her you still feel your heart tighten when she speaks your name. It freaks you out and you suplex her into a staircase. God, you need to be more careful. You’re not trying to kill her! But her broken, maniacal laugh brings her to life and as you promise her that you don’t want to hurt her, she hits you in a different way. 

“But you have already hurt me.” 

You consider yourself lucky that you can act like this is the mind controlled Catra talking, even though you hear her real voice echoing behind it (“BUT YOU HAVE ALREADY HURT ME!”) and know that she speaks the truth. You push the thoughts back and pin her wrists when she leaps at you from the stairs, forcing her back towards the edge of the platform. No railings, of course. You swear if you had an evil empire you would at least try to follow building codes. She lets herself teeter off the edge, somehow even in this form knowing that you will always catch her, always. You pull her towards you and wrap your arms around her in a moment of emotional weakness and she digs her claws deep into your back.

Her voice and Prime’s ring out together, urging you to let this game end. To stop hurting the ones you love. She brings her knee to your ribs, grabbing your collar and slamming you down into her. She flips the two of you, dangling you over the edge.

“She was afraid in the end. And she suffered,” Prime and his Catra tell you. Tears prick at your eyes. You did all you could, you think. You could’ve done more, you know. You grab her by the arms and force her away, slamming her back into a screen. The chip on the nape of her neck collides and suffers damage, and you get to see another precious glimpse of your Catra’s eyes. You cannot give up. 

The screen is exploding and you are pulling her away, lying her down and rolling her onto her back and she is looking at you with your eyes, her eyes. Her voice is shaky, messy, real.

“Adora. You should’ve stayed away. Why did you come back? We both know I don’t matter,” she says with conviction. And if you didn’t think there was a chance it could kill her you would slap her across the face right now. You settle for bringing your hand up to her cheek, urging her to listen to you. You tell her that she matters to you and tears form in her eyes. It breaks your heart to see how she struggles with this, with believing her worth. And as quick as your Catra came, she is gone again. 

Prime’s Catra does not worry about slapping _you_ across the face one bit before she stalks off towards the edge, but you will not have it. You try to will your Catra back. You remind her of who she is, of how she never listens to anyone and why the hell should she start now and you see her again, yours, her eyes filled with tears.

“You’re such an idiot,” she rasps out. You laugh and agree and feel that giddy joy you always feel when you have a real moment with her, even with everything that is going on and everything that you have been through. You will never stop loving this girl. You will never stop loving how she makes you feel, how she gives you purpose, how she impresses you. You tell her you’re going to take her home. She grits her teeth.

“Promise?” And that’s your Catra, no question. Your angry, bitter, righteous Catra. 

You promise. (It doesn’t matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other). You hope she knows that you understand her question for what it really is. Your tears fall freely now. She whispers your name and reaches out to you and then she is gone. Controlled by Prime, electrocuted, thrown into the pit. And who are you if you don’t jump in after her?

Her body lies broken, her breathing shallow. It’s okay it’s okay you’re here. 

“I am sorry for the needless waste, Adora. It did not have to be like this. Are you ready to cooperate?” 

Before, when you said your heroic “never,” you did it because you felt like you should. Now, you feel no need to say it. You know he can hear it in your angry breath, feel it in your hands on your Catra, see it in your solid blue eyes. And, in case that isn’t clear enough, you invoke the name of Grayskull. 

This is different. No sword, in the most obvious way. But, besides that, this form is love. Pure love. You feel the heart cutout in your collar, like Bow. The wings on the shoulders, like Glimmer. They are there for you, they support you. But this, this must be accredited to Catra. Her thin metal headpiece frames your face, her form limp in your arm drives your pulse. This love cannot be defeated. They miscalculated. They thought they would win, that you would be able to let Catra go? They have no idea what you have been through. You will never let her go again. You keep your promise, this time. You are going home. (When your Catra looks up at you from your lap on the ship floor with a weak “hey Adora,” her eyes crinkled in the corners, you think you might already be there).


End file.
